Death Gets Her Roof Fixed
by Darkpenn
Summary: She may be an ethereal being made flesh but a girl needs what girl needs. Unfortunately for Death, things are never that simple.


Death Gets Her Roof Fixed

_She may be an ethereal being made flesh but a girl needs what girl needs. Unfortunately for Death, things are never that simple._

Jack Edwards, owner and sole employee of Jack's Home Repairs, stopped his ancient truck by the rickety gate to check the directions that the guy at the café in the village had given him. Yes, there was the mailbox, on a leaning post. D. ENDLESS. He turned into the drive and towards the little cottage, nestled amongst some trees.

As he pulled up, a woman came out; she must have been waiting for him. She was young and attractive, in a slim, pale kind of way. Dark-haired, dressed in black jeans, a black shirt, wearing some sort of metal pendant. Had a tattoo under one eye. Maybe one of those goth girls, he thought, as he got out of the truck.

"You must be Jack," she said cheerfully.

"And you must be Ms Endless," he said.

"Oh, please call me Death," she said.

Definitely one of those goth girls, he thought.

"O – kay," he said. "The phone message said you've got a problem from storm damage?"

She pointed at the roof of the cottage. There was a large hole there, with the end of a branch sticking out.

He whistled. "Yeah, that's a problem alright," he said. "Anyone hurt?"

"No, but my cat almost died of fright," she said. "Think you can deal with it?"

"I'll need to see it from inside."

They went in. It was a nice little place, thought Jack, but it could use some work here and there. For example, the front door had tilted on its hinges so it did not sit flush with the jamb, and creaked when it moved.

"So this is Death's door, eh?" he said.

"Pardon me?" she said.

"Death's door. You know … er, Death's door."

"Well, yes, it is my door."

"No, I mean like, when someone is really sick, you say that they're at Death's door."

"Really? Never heard that. Who says it?"

"Well, er, people. My mother did."

"Ah. Your mother. Cynthia."

"What?"

"Cynthia. Your mother. Nice lady."

"You knew her?"

"Briefly. She was no trouble. Packed and everything, ready to go. Didn't say anything about my door, though."

Jack looked … puzzled.

Death sighed. "Look," she said. "I really am Death. One of the Endless. Conceptual idea given physical form. Been around for, well, forever. I'll be the one who turns the lights out when the Universe ends."

Jack stared at her for a long moment. Then he looked around. They were in the living room of the cottage. On a table, a computer hummed, lines of writing slowly moving up the screen.

"Live here by yourself, do you?" he said.

"Usually. Sometimes my brother comes to visit. Destiny. I have another brother, Desire, but he's just a prick. Maybe she, no-one really knows. Then there's Dream, and Delirium, and, well, you get the picture. Lot of Ds."

"Uh-huh."

Death sighed again. "Okay, I'll give you the demonstration," she said. "Where's my cat?"

A large ginger cat jumped off the armchair where it had been curled and made for the door. But Death caught it, scooped it up and held it in her arms. She scratched its ears. The cat made an 'oh, no, not again' sort of expression.

"Nice cat," said Jack. "Where did you get it?"

"Some guy gave him to me," said Death. "Schrödinger, I think his name was. Now, watch."

Death snapped her fingers, and the cat was dead. She handed the corpse to Jack.

He looked at it. Yes, it was dead, alright. A dead cat.

"I don't actually have to snap my fingers," said Death. "That's just for dramatic effect."

"Hey, you didn't have to kill your cat on my account," he said. He handed the limp body back to her.

"Oh, he'll be fine," she said. She stroked the cat, and it came back to life. It gave a little scrowl, jumped from her arms, and scampered out.

"So you, er, kill people?" said Jack. "And, uh, cats?"

"It's what I do," said Death. "Not so much kill as … collect, in most cases."

"From a cottage with a hole in the roof."

"Well, the hole is new. But yes. It doesn't actually matter where I am. I'm doing it right now, for instance."

"Right now? You mean, this very moment?"

"Think of it as multi-tasking."

Jack walked over to the computer and looked at the screen. The lines were names, slowly marching into oblivion.

"This is it?" he said.

Death laughed. "No, that just helps with the book-keeping," she said. "Before this, it was all ledgers and scrolls and god knows what."

Jack looked at the back of the computer. It did not appear to be connected to anything.

"Even if I accept all this – and I'm not saying I do – aren't you supposed to have a scythe or something?" he said.

Death glowered. "That damn scythe!" she said. "I appear with it – once – to some guy in the Middle Ages, and next thing I know I'm in a tapestry! For the next thousand years, everybody wants to know where the damn scythe is!"

"And why did you have a scythe?"

"Because I was trimming my hedge!"

Jack considered. The story of the scythe did not, really, seem any more or less ludicrous than the idea of Death living in a cottage with a hole in the roof, with a cat that may or may not be alive.

"Right," he said finally. "Well, this isn't getting your roof fixed. Show me the damage."

They went into the other room, and Death showed him where the tree branch had come crashing through the ceiling. He took a digital camera from his pocket and took some photographs. Then he went outside and took some more. He went back to his truck and took out his account book, and prepared a quote for the job.

He returned to the house and handed Death the paper. She read it carefully.

"That's a bit more than I expected," she said.

"Well, how about if I also fix your door?" he said. "It needs to be re-lined and re-hung. The roof itself will take at least two days. I could start tomorrow."

She considered. "Okay," she said finally. "How do you want me to pay? A cheque? Card? My credit rating is excellent, given that I am an ethereal being made flesh."

"Uh, I think I would prefer cash," he said.

"I can understand that," she said. "Does this figure include tax?"

"No, tax is extra."

"Well, it would be, wouldn't it. Inevitable, you know. Like me."

Jack did his best to smile. She was, after all, a paying customer.

* * *

Death stood by the front window with Destiny, who had dropped in for coffee. They were watching Jack measure and cut wood in the yard. The ginger cat sat on the hood of the truck, tail twitching slightly.

Jack had removed his shirt while he worked in the sun. A few beads of sweat trickled out of his hair and down his tanned back.

Death sighed. She would have liked a cigarette, but she had given up a few months ago.

"Been a while, eh?" said Destiny.

"Yeah, a while," said Death. She wondered if their brother/sister Desire might be playing one of his/her little tricks, but it seemed unlikely, after what had happened last time. On the other hand, Desire never really learned anything.

Jack stopped working, put on his shirt, and came into the house.

He saw Destiny and gave a start, perhaps due to the cowl, or maybe the face wrapped in shadows. Death introduced them as Destiny extended his hand. Jack shook it, looking at the large book that was chained to Destiny's wrist.

"The Book of Destiny," said Destiny, somewhat gravely. "In which all things are written."

"Yeah, that makes sense," said Jack. "Must be heavy, then."

"I keep telling him to get a laptop," said Death.

"Somehow, the Laptop of Destiny just doesn't have the right ring," said Destiny.

"Hmm," said Jack. "Look, I have to go into town for a while, pick up some paint and things."

"I'll come with you," said Death. "There's a place in town that makes iced lattés to die for. I'll buy you one. Since you're hot. I mean, since you've been working so hard."

Destiny snickered. Death glared at him. "Oh, don't mind me," Destiny said. "You two go and have a good time. I'm sure I can find … something … to do around here."

"Fine, but don't touch my computer," said Death. "That's how the Age of Kali got started, remember. Or my cat."

They drove into town in Jack's truck. At the café, they chatted about their respective occupations, drank coffee, and laughed. Jack took out his camera and snapped a picture of her, framed against the chequered curtains.

When they returned, Jack went back to work and Death went to find Destiny. He was watching television, the cat curled on his lap.

"Have a good time?" he said.

"Lot of fun," said Death.

"Right," said Destiny, pushing the cat away. "Well, I'll be off, then. I just wanted to show you something."

He opened the Book and sorted through the pages until he came to a particular passage.

Death read it.

"Oh," she said. "I don't suppose … ?"

"It is written," said Destiny.

"Damn," said Death.

The roof looked even better than before its encounter with the branch, and the door no longer creaked when it opened or closed.

"Wonderful," said Death. She handed him the cash.

He took it. Then he looked at her. She looked right back. There was a long moment.

"Jack," she said, "you don't have to leave right away, do you?"

"Not at all," he said.

* * *

She rolled off the bed and started to pull her black shirt on. The ginger cat studied them with feline disdain from the doorway.

"That was good," she said.

Jack laughed. "Only good?" he said.

She smiled. "If I said that that was the best time for me since the beginning of the Universe, would you believe me?" she said.

He thought about it. "I suppose not," he said.

She smiled again. Then she kissed him. "But good," she said, "is pretty damn good."

He started to dress. "Don't think that this is getting you a discount on the roof," he said.

"Wouldn't dream of it. You have to go now, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess I do. But … uh, you know that front gate you've got? It really could use some work."

She looked at him, and for a moment Jack saw an infinite sadness in her face. But then she smiled and said: "Sure. Come and do it whenever you like. Tomorrow, maybe."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

They went outside.

"You should have bought a better truck," she said, as he got in.

"Yeah, it's a heap of junk, and most of all, the brakes need fixing," he said. He took out his camera and called up the picture of her that he had taken in the café. He put it on the dashboard, so he could see it as he drove.

"I know," she said.

She gave him a long, lingering kiss.

They parted, and Jack started the truck. "Bye," he said. "See you tomorrow."

She watched him as he turned out of the driveway and was gone.

"See you," she said.

END


End file.
